"It seems to be whisky," he said doubtfully, "but I should have to make an a.n.a.lysis to be perfectly sure."

"You need not go to that trouble," said Sid quickly. "I have every reason to believe that it _is_ whisky."

"And what were you doing with it?" demanded Dr. Churchill sternly.

"That is a question which I must decline to answer," and Sid drew himself up haughtily.

The venerable president drew back, almost as if he had received a blow.

He looked at Sid keenly.

"Very well," he remarked quietly, and there was a note of sadness in his voice. "I shall have to inflict severe punishment. The rules call for suspension or expulsion, but, in view of your previous excellent record, I will make an exception. You will be debarred from all further partic.i.p.ation in athletics for the remainder of the term--unless," and the doctor paused, "you can make some explanation that will prove your innocence," and he looked almost as a father might at an erring son.

"I--I can't make any explanation," answered Sid brokenly, as he turned away, while the doctor, with a shake of his head, took up his Sanskrit book, and went back to his study.

CHAPTER XVIII

BASCOME GIVES A DINNER

Of course, the story was all over college the next day, for those things leak out, through messengers or servants, or in some mysterious manner.

But, in this case, the suspension of Sid from further partic.i.p.ation in the ball games, had to be made known.

"For the love of onions, what are we going to do?" demanded Tom. "We can't do without Sid." He was quite broken up over the affair.

"We'll have to play Pete Backus in his place," suggested Phil.

"Yes, I know, but Pete----" began the perplexed captain.

"He'll have to train harder than he has been," observed the coach, who, with Tom and some friends, were talking over the alarming situation.

"Oh, Pete'll do it, if he once makes up his mind to it, and I'll see that he does," agreed Tom.

"Does this mean that we'll have to cancel the next game with Fairview?"

asked Ed Kerr, who was anxious to know, for, as manager, he would have to shift his dates.

"No, we'll play 'em," replied the coach. "It will mean more and harder practice for the next two weeks, though, and we have a game with that Michigan school Sat.u.r.day. They're hard as nails, too, I hear, but maybe it will do our fellows good to get a few more drubbings. It may wake them up, for there's no denying that the fellows are not playing up to the mark."

"I'm sure it's not my fault," began Tom, a bit aggressively.

"I didn't say it was," retorted Mr. Leighton, and there was a sharp tone in his words. "Only we've got to play better if we want to win."

Tom, with a fierce feeling in his heart, put his men through a hard practice previous to a game with the scrub team, and the men seemed to wake up. Pete Backus surprised his chums and himself by knocking a home run.

"That's the stuff!" cried Tom.

"Work like that wins games," added the coach, brightening up a bit.

Tom and Phil, in tacit agreement with the rest of the athletic set, had avoided mentioning Sid's disgrace, but coming home from practice that afternoon, Tom, seeing his chum, curled up in the old armchair, studying, could not help remarking:

"What in the world did you do it for, old man? You've put us in a fierce hole."

"I'm sorry," spoke Sid contritely.

"Why don't you explain?" asked Phil.

"I can't."

"You mean there's nothing to explain?" queried Tom.

"You can put it that way, if you like. I wish you fellows would let me alone."

"That's all right, Sid," went on Tom, "but when we count on you to play on the team--and when we need you--to go back on us this way--it's not----"

"Oh, let me alone; will you?" burst out the unfortunate one. "Haven't I got troubles enough? You know it hurts me, as much as it does you, not to play. Don't I want to see Randall win?"

"Doesn't look much like it," mumbled Phil.

"Say, look here," exploded Sid, "if you fellows don't want me here any longer, just say so, and I'll get out." He sprang to his feet, and faced his chums, a look on his face they had never seen there before. It brought to them a realization of what it all meant, though they could not understand it.

"Oh, hang it all, we're getting too serious!" declared Tom. "Of course, we want you to stay here--we wouldn't know what to do if you left us.

Only it's tough on the team."

"Glad you appreciate my abilities," remarked Sid, with a little softening of his manner. "I'm as much broken up over it as you are. All I can say is there's been a big mistake, and all I ask for is a suspension of judgment."

"But if it's a mistake, why can't you tell?" insisted Phil.

"I can't, that's all. You'll have to worry along without me. I hear Pete is doing good."

"Oh, yes, fair," admitted Tom, "but he isn't as sure a batter as you are. We need you, Sid."

"Well, I'm sorry--that's all. It may be explained--some day, but not now," and Sid fell to studying again.

"I don't like this," remarked Tom to Phil, a few days later, following some practice the day before the game with Michigan, a team that had won a name for itself on the diamond.

"Don't like what, Tom?"

"The way some of our team are playing and acting. They seem to think any old kind of baseball will do. They play fine--at times--then they go to pieces. Then, too, there seems to be a sort of clique forming in the nine and among some of the subs. There's too much sporting around, and staying out nights. Too many little suppers and smokers."

"Leighton doesn't kick--why should you?"

"He doesn't know it, but if it keeps on I'm going to tell him, and have him stiffen up the men. Ed Kerr's got to help, too. Bert Bascome is responsible for some of it. He's got lots of money, and he spends it.

Then, with his auto, he's playing old bob with some of the fellows, taking them on joy rides, and keeping them out until, first they know, Zane will have them down on his list."

"Oh, it's not as bad as that, I guess."

"It isn't, eh? You just watch, that's all," and Tom kept moodily on to his room. On the table were three envelopes, one each for the captain, Sid and Phil.